Somewhere 15 years ago, immediately after the divorce, found a job in a gas station, an operator. There was no choice at all. No education, no experience, my daughter is 3 years old. There is not much work in our small town. Asking for help was not convenient. I worked a day in two, from 7 a.m. to 7 a.m. The daughter was brought to the kindergarten at 6, was taken to the cook to the kitchen, in the evening asked one parent from the group and she brought her to me for gasoline, there and spent the night, and in the morning from work back to the garden or home. And this was learned by the educator, Love Anatolievna, a very good woman, aged 55. The kids adored her. She approached me, asked about everything and offered to take my daughter to sleep with me when I had 24 hours. She recently buried her husband and, as she said, she needed someone to take care of. I have agreed. Love Anatolievna told her fairy tales every night, taught her to read, they were sewing and drawing. She even bloomed. And everyone was pleased. So it lasted for six months, and then I changed work, but the daughter continued to visit the teacher, sometimes with a night stay. Of course, I gave her gifts (the money she categorically did not take), bought foods, guests and congratulated with all the holidays. We loved her like our grandmother. Years later, I remember her with great warmth. Unfortunately, she died a few years ago. He was the best teacher.